


Don't Wanna Be Your Favorite Enemy

by skyline



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Camelot, M/M, Season 1, do it for the blowjobs, look I know they go to Camelot in season 2 but I started this before that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 02:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10294937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: “Camelot. We’re in-“ Ray circles a finger in the air emphatically. “Camelot.”Primly, Rip corrects, “Technically, we’re in a tavern on the outskirts of Camelot.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally thinking about making a series of spin off oneshots based on You Have Failed This Puppy, with this being the first one, but that's not going to happen. This is really like...incidentally related to that fic at this point. But I do mention Moravia, so if you're curious about the puppy, that would be the fic I'd direct you to. 
> 
> As for Camelot- I started this last year and then it languished on my hard drive long past the premiere of S2. My bad. Don't hate me.

“Camelot. We’re in-“ Ray circles a finger in the air emphatically. “ _Camelot_.”

Primly, Rip corrects, “Technically, we’re in a tavern on the outskirts of Camelot.”

Kendra frowns disapprovingly down at her drink. “Vandal Savage isn’t here. So why are we?”

“We’re here, Ms. Saunders,” Rip sucks in a dramatic breath. Then he releases it. “To relax. Enjoy it.”

“I’m enjoying Camelot,” Ray volunteers. His excitement is palpable. “Because oh my god, we’re in Camelot.”

“Say Camelot one more time,” Snart tells him coolly, menace in his eyes.

Mick chuckles under his breath, and everyone has a brief moment of discomfort. The guy was always scary, but now he’s been through some seriously scary shit. Ray knows everyone’s waiting for him to crack.

But now’s not the time- Mick sips his mead and nudges Sara with his elbow, gaze bright with drink.

Sara tells Rip, “The last time you tried to get us to relax, there was a puppy.” She crosses her arms, narrow eyed and reproachful. “Then you took the puppy away.”

“A ship is no place for a dog,” Rip replies, serenely.

“And she peed in his shoes,” Jax adds, his grin lightning quick.

Rip glares, but seeing as how Rip spends the vast majority of his life glaring, no one is bothered by the recurrence.

“I didn’t know you were even capable of relaxing,” Sara tells Rip.

Kendra nods her agreement, curls moving in time with her head. She leans against Sara and asks, “Isn’t against the Time Master code?”

Rip continues to glare ineffectively.

Of no one in particular, Dr. Stein asks, “Have you noticed that every time we go somewhere new, the first place we check out is a bar?” even as he turns his mug in his hands.

Kendra and Jax pat Stein’s shoulder’s gently, because yes, that is their MO, and no, it’s not likely to change any time soon.

Rip, Sara, and Ray all take long sips of their mead and ignore him.

Mick and Leonard roll their eyes. They’re too cool for all of this. For _Camelot_. Ray is abruptly giddy again.

“Sara. No, _Sara_ ,” Ray waves his hands in the air after swallowing, trying to get her attention. “We could be knights.”

Doubtfully, Jax says, “Maybe _she_ could be a knight.” 

Ray’s pout is instantaneous.

Sara smiles fiercely, secure in the knowledge that yeah, she could totally be a knight.

“I could be a knight,” Ray grumbles. “I could be the best knight.”

“Drink your mead,” Leonard advises.

“People don’t have very many teeth here,” Jax comments, and it breaks the mood. Kendra tells him not to judge, while Sara and Mick snicker into their liquor.

For a little while longer, things are good.

* * *

 

Then Ray decides he needs some air, and Rip goads Snart into taking him, because hey, it’s not like he’s a grown ass man or anything. “I’m perfectly capable of doing – things, by myself,” Ray protests.

“Safety in numbers,” Rip drawls.

Snart rolls his eyes. “As long as I don’t have to converse with him.”

“I’m perfectly happy with my inner monologue,” Ray snarks back, before he realizes that he sounds a bit pathetic.

They amble outside, enough space between their bodies that they seem like strangers. But when they’re a far enough distance from the tavern that they’re in the tree line, Snart catches up. Ray’s in a bit of a sulk at this point; he doesn’t like sounding dumb in front of his team, in front of Leonard, and besides. The moon above the keep is full and haunting, reminding him that for all the honor and glory of Camelot, its downfall was swift and calamitous.

“I read Le Mort d’Arthur in high school,” Ray announces. “The poor king.”

“He reaped what he sewed,” Leonard retorts, and he doesn’t look very sorry for poor King Arthur or the tragedy at Camlann. But why should he?

They’re living their own great adventure, and oh. It is pretty grand.

Once upon a time, a man came from the sky and asked Ray to be a legend. And now he’s here, under the wide open night sky of a place Ray never even really thought existed. All his bad feelings dissipate.

He leans back against the rough bark of a tree, convinced, for a moment, that he’s living inside a story book.

“Raymond, do try not to look quite so satisfied with yourself. You don’t really get to be a knight.”

“Save that dose of reality for another night, Cold. We’re in _Camelot_.”

Leonard’s mouth curls. “You’ve mentioned.”

“The elegance. The adventure. The magic!”

“I’m sure you want an intro to Merlin.”

“Imagine!” Ray spreads his arms wide, encompassing the world. “Come on. Does nothing phase you?”

Leonard’s lips pull back, teeth flashing white in the moonlight. “You do. On occasion.”

Ray’s smile is compulsory, reckless and bright.

It’s better not to give Snart any kind of encouragement. He’s insufferable once he knows he’s under your skin. But Snart’s compliments are so rare that Ray can’t help it, warmth spreading to the tips of his limbs.

His delight is infectious.

Leonard grins, wide and feral. He keeps watching Ray until it fades into the ghost of a smile, and then he takes a step forward. One, and then another, and then he’s got Ray pinned. Ray’s heart kicks up too many beats, everything too fast, too startlingly clear and real.

Laughter barks from Ray’s throat, nervous and enchanted. “Howdy, partner. Enjoying the view?”

“Very much.” Leonard’s hands come up to cup Ray’s jaw.

Ray shivers. Leonard’s skin is unexpectedly hot, and Ray is painfully aware of every single one of his individual fingertips.  

He never thought this would do it for him. This man is a criminal, a rogue, a thief. He’s nothing at all like Ray’s type, except for how he is everything like it. He has quiet dignity under all that sass, integrity that he tries not to let anyone see.

But Ray notices more and more each day.

“Look at you. Braver than I thought.”

Snart hovers an inch away. Ray can taste his breath. He nearly trembles, but he wants to be cool. He’s never wanted to impress anyone the way he constantly wants to impress Leonard. “What you’re saying is, you’ve thought about me.”

“You’ve got a certain way about you,” Snart admits.

“Endearing?” Ray guesses cheekily.

“Maddening,” Leonard retorts.

Ray’s aiming to say something clever, something that will charm Snart into- staying, maybe, but he doesn’t even have to. Leonard crushes their mouths together with bruising pressure.

And Ray, for all that he’s used to gentle and kind, melts against him with an embarrassingly loud moan.

His head thuds back against the tree as Snart moves against him, the slow slide of his mouth driving Ray insane. Leonard’s tongue flicks against his, hands moving from Ray’s face to the leather of his vest, fingers deftly unlacing the front until he reaches the scratchy fabric beneath, and under that, skin.

He skims Ray’s abs with a small, appreciative chuckle. “Not bad, Boy Scout.”

Ray, when he tries to do the same, is clumsy. He fumbles with the unfamiliar clothes, everything that seemed so fantastic before abruptly a hindrance to what he wants.

The tavern and the team are distant things, forgotten except for a sporadic shout here, the high, thin wail of an instrument there. And all the while, Ray’s tongue runs along the sharp edges of Snart’s teeth, the other man swallowing down his gasps.

He’s impatient and selfish, and he takes more from Snart than he gives. But Leonard is agreeable to it, touching Ray everywhere, and following it all with kisses that venture lower and lower, until he sinks down to his knees. He pulls Ray’s pants down his hips to suck marks against the jut of his bone.

Ray’s fingertips dig into bark, splinters beneath his nails. _This isn’t sexy_ , he tells himself. His ass is against a freezing cold tree, and this isn’t sexy at all. But Leonard’s tongue is trekking its way down the curve of his dick, a slow, wet trail that makes his entire body pulse with what.

It’s pretty damned sexy. Ray gives up, runs his palms along the curve of Snart’s skull, the warmth of his skin and the heat of his mouth the only thing Ray can actively focus on. He’s murmuring something, a mantra of ‘oh god’, barely audible below the tavern sounds, the insect-click and night creatures in the forest. He watches Leonard’s mouth on him, watches the imprint of his knees in soft moss and rich earth.

A tightness starts at the base of his spine, molten hot and building up the length of his cock. Leonard licks out at the tip of him and then goes deep, sucking him between the abused pink of his lips. Ray can feel his heartbeat, there, in the back of his throat.

He loses it, coming in thick, quick spurts, while Snart lazily swallows it down. His hands curl into Ray’s thighs, and around the shape of Ray’s dick, he smirks.

“Camelot,” Ray breathes. “We just defiled _Camelot_.”

Snart pops off Ray’s cock and licks his own teeth. “The scandal.”

Ray can’t help it. The half-assed sarcasm and last vestiges of his orgasm make him fond. He bends down and claims Leonard’s mouth in a kiss. And Leonard, to his surprise, opens to it.

Sweetly, like maybe this isn’t just a one off, _I’m-bored-you’re-here kind_ of event.

“You taste like honey,” Ray tells him, the sweet-sour of mead still wetting Leonard’s tongue. There’s something else there, too, something salty and familiar.

Leonard laughs, wry and patronizing. His mouth moves against Ray’s, and he says, “No, Boy Scout. I taste like you.”

 


End file.
